Behind the Scenes
by AlaskanFan
Summary: This story pairs Lee and Amanda, and is an AU adventure set in 2008 and 2009. It commemorates the 6th anniversary of the DVD release (March, 2010).
1. Status Quo

This story pairs Lee and Amanda, and is an AU adventure set in 2008 and 2009. It commemorates the 6th anniversary of the DVD release (March, 2010). Names have been changed just in case anyone objects to being named, but they are deliberately recognizable to give credit where credit is due.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Enterprises own these wonderful characters. All I get from writing about them is the chance to visit with Lee and Amanda from time to time. The story is my own.

 **Summer 2008**

The SMK Youkou Forum was abuzz with anticipation and eager plans. Many members expected to travel to Hollywood for the 25th Anniversary of Scarecrow and Mrs. King. A frequent topic of conversation was their mutual interest in obtaining DVDs of the show. Repeated requests to The Powers That Be at Warner Brothers had been ignored. Members dared to dream the impossible dream that the gathering of fans would be chosen by Warner Brothers as an ideal time for a public announcement that their pleas had been heard and the desired DVDs would be produced. Barring such an announcement, it also provided optimal conditions for strategy sessions and persuasive campaigns.

In September, the member known as I Want Scarecrow on DVD suggested buying parking signs which read "Reserved Parking for Scarecrow and Mrs. King Fans Only." Scattering such signs throughout Warner Brother's employee parking would certainly attract attention.

JAGJunkie pointed out that contracts from the 80's did not include provision for sales of the show to home viewers. She speculated that the delay with SMK could be due to the need to renegotiate music rights and compensation of actors.

BBFan encouraged the members "Never give up on a miracle!" Fans of other shows had been wearied by a long wait, but then joyfully surprised by newly available DVDs. AlwaysBuffy rallied the troops to "hang on to hope!"

Reena questioned Warner Brothers' research methods. It was unbelievable that they had actually tested the market or compiled accurate demographic information about the fan base. No one on the forum had heard of any survey effort, so what resources were they using if they hadn't actually contacted fans?

Neenee voiced the alternating opinions that "Warner Brothers just doesn't care" and "They are deliberately holding out on fans." She often expressed the wish that the studio executives would quit sitting around and DO something about the DVD release. Sometimes she lamented that "It's all about the almighty dollar." Other times she suspected them of having "an evil plot" against SMK fans specifically. It was a subject of considerable angst for all.

XOXOXOXOX

 **October 9, 2008**

 **Hollywood, CA**

The 25th Anniversary Celebration of Scarecrow and Mrs. King had been a marvelous success. Guests of honor included actors Paul Stout, Joseph Brutsman, Myron Natwick, Martha Smith and Bruce Boxleitner along with producers Dennis Duckwall and Kurt Galvao. Joseph had designed a commemorative poster of actors, guest stars, and villains which he gave to each attendee. Paul had joined the viewing party while fans watched The First Time, providing commentary and behind-the-scenes tidbits. Martha was witty and beautiful. Myron was far more charming than Dr. Smyth on his best day. And Bruce (sigh) was as handsome as ever. BahamaFling and her committee had done amazing work and hosted a wonderful anniversary party at the Beverly Garland hotel.

Dozens of fans had attended to celebrate the show, chat with actors and production staff, and meet one another. Screen names matched up with real names, and fan-girl bonding was one highlight of the event. Tours of the Warner Brothers lot, photos of the King house, autograph sessions, and question and answer sessions satisfied every fan's dreams. Hot topics benefited from actor input. Fans learned that Bruce believed Lee had started falling in love with Amanda during Service Above and Beyond (swoon), and that he believed Lee and Amanda waited until after marriage. Attendees had scattered to their homes clutching precious souveniers (mugs, autographed photos, key chains, toy cars, beanie baby pandas), and savoring memories. As Kermit the Frog sang, they were "old friends who just met." It was a stellar occasion.

Throughout the weekend, fans compared VHS archives, internet viewing options, and bootleg DVD copies. Time after time, they asked, "When will Warner Brothers release the official DVD series?" The fans asked the actors and learned nothing new. They asked Kurt and Dennis, but the producers had no answers either. Other shows from the 80s had been released and these fans longed for their favorite show to be available in its clear, uncut beauty.

Sadly, written queries to Warner Brothers received no reply.

XOXOXOXOX

 **October 20, 2008**

 **Eastern edge of Alaska**

The lights were out in dazzling display tonight. Besides the common green streaks usually visible, tonight's display included pink highlights woven in the glittering green. The lights pulsed and roiled from one horizon to the other. It reminded her of another night some years ago, about a year after she moved to the cabin.

Mitzi had been on the move for several years. She knew how thoroughly, and relentlessly, the Agency could track people. She changed her name and hair color every time she moved. She had become adept at finding jobs that would pay cash so that there was no paper trail with the IRS. Her paranoia often spiraled into anger, and she conveniently forgot that she was the architect of her desperate circumstances. In 2001, she had drifted to Washington State and worked a back-breaking job planting apple trees. With an envelope of cash, she made her way to Seattle and drank her way steadily through the night. As dawn broke, she hauled herself off the bar stool and staggered to the pay phones in the back. Even when she was drunk, the phone number was at her finger-tips, and she pressed the keys rapidly without error.

"Stetson," the mellow voice could still melt her knees.

"I'm telling you again, I don't forget and I don't forgive. You and your floozy won't be making a fool of me. You embarrass me, and I'll tell what I know to every two-bit journalist I can find. I mean it! Everything I know will be tomorrow's headlines, if you cross me in this."

She hung up the phone, triumphant. She was sure she had talked fast enough to prevent their fancy machines from tracing the call. As she crossed the street back to her friends' apartment to sleep off her drinking binge, she had the unpleasant thought that the Agency might have faster tracing methods since her last call. In the fifteen years since she left the Agency, technology had taken giant steps. By the time she faded into sleep on a worn air mattress, her paranoia had reached a new high and her dreams were filled with images of running farther and farther away.

The next day, she talked her way onto a boat that was returning to Alaska for the summer. A private vessel wouldn't register a passenger list with anyone, and her escape from Seattle would be untraceable.

She bought a box of "light caramel brown" hair color before leaving town and introduced herself on the boat as Mindy. Upon arrival in Anchorage, she made vague promises to "keep in touch" and disappeared into the streets around the dock. She rented a cheap room for a month, dyed her hair and started calling herself Marti.

She'd been working in a sticky, decaying bar for four months when she met Hal and a whole new way of life. Hal lived in the Alaska "Bush" – far off the roadway and far away from government agents of any type. His tales of quiet nights, solitude, and daring independence ignited her imagination. Instead of worrying about what other people think of him, he had turned his back on public opinion and fashioned a life to please no one other than himself. He was in town for a week in October, stocking supplies for the winter and storing up conversations against the months of solitude. Finding someone to warm his bed for the week was a bonus. Finding someone to warm his bed for the entire winter was mind blowing. Before he had considered the impact of another person on his precious solitude, he had doubled his food order at Sam's Club so there would be enough to eat for both of them, and made arrangements with the flight service to accommodate an extra passenger on the return trip.

She bought a bottle of "medium champagne blonde," because it was the closest to her natural hair color, and met him on time at Lake Hood, the busiest seaplane airport in the world. She introduced herself to the pilot as Mitzi and convinced Hal that he had been too drunk to remember her name correctly. Dressed in military surplus winter clothing, she began to wonder if maybe this time she had bitten off more than she could chew. The tiny plane bobbed on the water as the pilot carefully stowed Hal's supplies and other goods to be delivered to remote locations. With an expert eye, he estimated the weight of his new passenger, her clothing, boots, and backpack. It was important to distribute the weight inside the plane evenly. He mentally shrugged off any interests for her well-being. She was Hal's concern, not his. Briskly, he briefed them on safety matters, toileting methods, and the expected duration of the flight, then gave them 5 minutes for a final bathroom break while he finished his preparations and cleared the flight with the control tower. With water arcing on both sides of the plane, the pilot raced the length of the lake and lifted into the crisp Fall morning. That was a lifetime ago.

The night she was remembering might have been colder than this one, but she was alone then, too. Hal had gone to check on one of his trap lines and that generally took a week. If they had gotten sick of each other, it might take longer. Once, he was gone a month. That particular night was memorable because it was her 45th birthday and it served as a milestone of self-revelation. She had suddenly realized that the boiling anger that had been her lifetime companion had somehow abated. It had been weeks – no, months really – since she had felt the familiar surge of fury. She had probed the memory of anger and was surprised to find the merest hint of peace. And under the starry night where the northern lights danced, she had felt her soul expand, uncoil, relax.

This night, she cherished the simplicity of solitude and self-reliance. She watched the lights until they dimmed and then made her way to bed – working through all of the safety precautions in the tiny cabin and survival preparations for herself, just in case. She was satisfied with the course of the past few years. For the first time in her life, she felt at home.

XOXOXOXOX


	2. Revelations

**November, 2008**

 **The Agency, Washington, D.C.**

Shasta Lopez double checked the address and approached the modest brick building with a tiny zing of pleasure. She had heard stories of this place and was eager to finally contribute her own observations to the legends. As an historian, she valued accuracy and verifiable facts. As a member of a story telling family, she valued the details that put flesh on the facts, the observations that added nuances of meaning to dry reports. Her visit today would be recorded and filed, but it would also become a story which contained more color than the official report would allow.

Shasta favored lively colors in stories and in dress. Today, she wore a dark red suit with a vivid turquoise blouse which had random streaks of red decorating the silky fabric. She accented the suit with silver and turquoise jewelry – a wide band around her wrist, a tasteful twist of metal and stones at the base of her neck and dangling bits of metal and stones from her ears. Her hair was short and spiky, and her make-up was bold, but not garish. She might not be considered beautiful, but she certainly made heads turn in appreciation. She caught a glimpse of herself in a window beside the door and was pleased by what she saw.

She opened the door and stepped into an unassuming professional office. The reception area would have been suitable for an insurance office or stock broker's. It was small but tastefully decorated and there were comfortable chairs available for those who must be kept waiting. She signed in as required, presented her identification, and accepted a visitor's badge. The receptionist made pleasant small talk while pressing a discreet button notifying some hidden office that an expected visitor had arrived. She gestured Shasta toward a door to her left which opened as the receptionist pressed another button.

Passing through this door, Shasta encountered the typical security devices which were standard in every government building. She presented her laptop computer and briefcase to a marine for inspection, placed her purse on the conveyor belt and put her keys in the bowl provided. She passed through the security portal and was retrieving her possessions just as an elegant blond woman exited an elevator and approached with a smile and an outstretched hand, "I'm Francine Desmond." Her bright purple dress was muted somewhat by her flowing black jacket. Her hair was arranged in a french twist and held in place by a feather and ebony clip. Her vivid blue eyes smiled warmly.

Returning the firm grip with one of her own, she replied, "Shasta Lopez, Information Security Office, National Archives."

"Pleased to meet you. I'll take you up to the conference room. Did you have any trouble finding our office?" The elevator was oddly designed with a wooden door that swung open rather than the standard metal doors that parted in the center. She knew this had been the quirky elevator that had been disguised as a coat closet. Stories at the Archives from the old days included an episode in which one woman's elaborate hairdo and jewelry got tangled in the coats, and Milton told an absurd tale of moving files in such a manner that made the overhead shelf collapse. Lamentably, the renovations to install extra security features, improve accessibility due to A.D.A. requirements, and add necessary office space had altered that notable feature of the Agency's original design. Only the wooden door remained for a touch of nostalgia.

The reconstruction had increased security on the top floor and that area was now used as conference rooms for semi-public access. Adding conference rooms upstairs minimized the intrusion of visitors into the bustling work space below ground, and shielded the technology and operations from casual observers. Shasta had only a moment to regret that she had never seen the closet/elevator in its original state before arriving at the top floor and walking with her guide to the designated conference room.

"Let me introduce you. This is Amanda Stetson and her husband Lee, and Billy Melrose." Francine gestured helpfully as she said each name, and each one cordially shook her hand. Shasta was briefly amused by the thought that perhaps Amanda and Lee had coordinated their clothing for the day. Both agents wore autumnal colors of dark green and brown. Amanda's green sweater included accents of scarlet and yellow, while Lee's green jacket was complemented by a tie featuring green, yellow and burgundy medallions. Mr. Melrose was dressed more conservatively in a charcoal suit, white shirt and black and gray tie. "This is Shasta Lopez with the Information Security Office."

"Pleased to meet you and welcome to the Agency. Let's get started." Billy's low voice broke through the murmurred greetings. There was a shuffle of chairs, computers and note pads as the five of them settled around the table. The table could have accommodated eight people, ten if they got really cozy, and was surrounded by executive office chairs in black leather. Hi-tech gear was visible around the room, available as needed, but discreetly tucked away.

"Before we get started, does anyone object to my recording the entire session?" Shasta voiced the question as part of Archives' standard protocol. She received consent by various nods, smiles and comments, but the agents already knew that standard Agency procedure was to record all meetings in each conference room. They would have their own recording of this session. She adjusted her laptop to begin an audio recording.

"Ms. Lopez, we'll let you begin."

"Thank you, Mr. Melrose. As you know, classified projects are automatically declassified in 25 years unless there is specific cause to maintain a classified status. You recently submitted documentation requesting an exemption on Project Scarecrow - activation date October, 1983, which has prompted today's meeting. This is simply a meeting to review the nature of the classified information and the type of exemption requested. The information discussed today will be provided to a Review Committee which will actually make the decision to proceed with declassification or not." Shasta settled into the routine as she recited the familiar words. She had conducted this sort of review a few times, but as the newest employee in the department, she would not ordinarily handle an assignment of this magnitude. She licked her lips and took a sip of water as she paused for breath.

"As always, there have been personnel changes and public policy changes during the intervening 25 years, so we always like to hear the rationale of the original classification to provide a context for any application for exemption." This was her favorite part of the job. The files were often stuffed with facts and dusty statistics, but she loved getting the personal stories that made history come alive. Her dark eyes shone with pleasure and her high cheekbones were emphasized by her wide smile. "Time to dig deep in your memories and describe the context of Project Scarecrow."

Billy and Lee exchanged a look and the older man nodded to the younger one. The handsome agent pushed back from the table and stood. "Pardon me, but I think better on my feet. Since you work for the Archives, I assume you have a background in history, yes?"

"Correct, double major in history and political science, 3 years employment with the Archives. Your explanation will be reviewed by others with even better credentials. However, you do want to be thorough with any pertinent information."

"Fine." He adjusted his tie and brushed one hand through his silver-blond hair. "It actually started right after World War II when the House Un-American Activities Committee started a campaign to 'clean up' Hollywood. It's true that the entertainment industry has tremendous power to influence the public, but HUAC ran rough-shod over justice, careers, and reputations. The goal of protecting the public was good, but the method was heavy-handed and unjust. That purge finally ended but the lingering after-taste left a lot of bitterness behind."

He rocked onto the balls of his feet as he got more engaged with the topic. He paced and gestured. It was easy for Shasta to imagine him as a popular university professor. "During the 1960s, the intelligence community considered and discarded various schemes to monitor the film industry. In the 1970s, someone got the notion to send agents undercover into Hollywood to keep an eye on things. For instance, I developed a bio and backstory as Bruce Boxleitner and got a small part on the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Ed Asner was causing concern in D.C. and we needed some eyes and ears to judge whether he should be monitored. Based on my report, another agent was assigned as a recurring character on the show. Norman Lear was another person of concern. He was still small potatoes when an agent went undercover as Jean Stapleton and was cast in the role of Edith Bunker."

"Wait a minute. Please pardon my interruption, but let me get this straight. _Jean Stapleton_ was a _spy_ keeping tabs on _Norman Lear_?" Shasta had grown up watching reruns of "All in the Family" and this information demanded a significant paradigm shift.

"Well, almost. _Emily_ was a spy who developed the persona of Jean Stapleton. Jean Stapleton didn't actually exist." Lee explained carefully. " _Emily_ kept tabs on Norman Lear, Carroll O'Connor and various associates. She did a great job. When All in the Family finally ended, the cover story of Jean Stapleton was filed away. Some years later, Emily married into British nobility and continued her intelligence career with MI-6."

There was a short silence as Shasta absorbed this information. Ed Asner was openly critical of U.S. foreign policy. Norman Lear was the founder of "People for the American Way" which staunchly interpreted "freedom _of_ religion" to mean "freedom _from_ religion." And it was an insider's joke in Hollywood that Carroll O'Connor, who had played the ultra-conservative and bigoted Archie Bunker, held quite liberal views. These were influential men indeed; it was hardly surprising that the government felt it necessary to monitor their actions and associates. Free speech is a foundational value in this country, but deeds sometimes lead to action, and actions sometimes become treason. The agents exchanged looks among themselves knowing that there was a bigger surprise to come.

Billy cleared his throat, "Based on Emily's information, I was assigned to assist her and played a small role on All in the Family. I was undercover as an actor named Mel Stewart for the part of Henry Jefferson, a brother of the Bunker's next door neighbor."

Amanda swiveled her chair to face Shasta. "And I was handed the bio and backstory of Kate Jackson. I had major roles in two Aaron Spelling productions and compiled dossiers on various people in the industry. Spelling wasn't as out-spoken as Asner and Lear, but he pushed societal boundaries in his productions just as much as they did. The three of these television creators and producers had a profound influence on American culture."

"As Bruce Boxleitner, I had various roles such as Luke Macahan on How the West was Won and had small parts on other productions. Francine, too, went undercover as an actress. The thing is – we were successful in gathering information, but it was apparent that keeping tabs on Hollywood was not the best use of trained intelligence agents for national security." The room fell silent again as everyone waited for Lee to make the next point.

He heaved a big sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Then in 1980, Ronald Reagan was elected President of the United States. Let's go back to my first point about the House Un-American Activities Committee. While they were wreaking havoc on Hollywood, Ronald Reagan served as president of the Screen Actors Guild from 1947-1952 and again from 1959-1960. Some of his _best political maneuvering_ was during those years as he navigated the storms caused by HUAC. He had very personal experience with the film industry – both good and bad. As President of the United States, he's the one who initially conceived the idea of Project Scarecrow." Lee glanced at his fellow agents for support before tackling this final point. "Ms. Lopez, what is the purpose of a scarecrow?"

"To scare away birds, I suppose, to keep them from eating the seeds in the fields, or to to keep them from uprooting plants while digging for bugs or worms." She didn't have a farming background but the answer seemed obvious to her.

"That's a good answer, but it's wrong. Birds learn very quickly that a straw figure is powerless and they are not driven away for very long. Even figures with shiny bits of metal that reflect the light, or streamers that wave in the breeze, are not very effective in scaring away birds. The actual purpose of a scarecrow is to make the farmer or his family feel good. People like making scarecrows and using them to decorate their fields. Their only purpose is to provide pleasure."

"President Reagan decided that the U.S. Government should use Hollywood for its own purposes. He wanted to boost civic pride and make Americans feel good about their government. This is the basis of Project Scarecrow and the genesis of the television series Scarecrow & Mrs. King. The show didn't actually combat predators any more than a scarecrow combats birds. However, it regularly presented clear good-guy versus bad-guy scenarios and the United States' good-guys always won. In the midst of humor and romance, Americans were encouraged to believe in their own government again. It's as simple as that. The classified information of Project Scarecrow is that an 80s television series was funded by the U.S. Government for propaganda purposes."

Lee's final point surprised Shasta so much that she burst into laughter and was joined by the agents. The shared hilarity broke through the stiff formality and everyone noticeably relaxed. It sounded like pure fantasy. Of course she knew from her college studies that Reagan's 1980 campaign pledge was to "restore the great, confident roar of American progress and growth and optimism." She shouldn't be surprised that he used stories and pretense as tools in that great quest. She wondered how much the "feel good" quality of this show contributed to his re-election in 1984

As her laughter subsided, she asked, "So the spy show used real spies to make Americans feel good about the U.S. intelligence efforts. Was this the first reality television show?"

"I think that honor belongs to Candid Camera, but, yes, Scarecrow & Mrs. King would fit in that category." Billy was relieved by Shasta's response and could only hope that the Review Committee would respond likewise. He anticipated retirement next year and hoped to get this classification issue settled prior to leaving the Agency.

"I believe that is the funniest thing I've heard in this job. I watched reruns of the show when it was on PAX. My mom was a big fan. Do you have time to tell me how it all worked? This is just amazing." She blushed to realize that, yes, the people in this room are the actors from the show and she hadn't recognized them. She inwardly awarded herself an "F" for observation skills.

"We used a mix of actors and Agency personnel." Amanda eagerly picked up the story as Lee settled in his chair. "Beverly and the boys were actors and the various victims and bad guys were all actors as well. We used a few Agency employees on the show, like Emily Farnsworth. Most of the directors and producers didn't know the true nature of our jobs. Steve Ross, CEO of Warner Communications at the time, knew who we were and the objectives for the show. It was a closely guarded secret at the highest levels of Warner Communications." Her eyes twinkled with fond memories as she recalled those days. While ordinary actors could have been cast in the lead roles, using agents served a dual purpose of inserting Agents into Hollywood while also coordinating the show's story lines with the federal government mandates.

"Shoot the Moon Enterprises was developed as a cover organization for the government. Since the U.S. government owned 51% of the show, Reagan was able to exert considerable influence. I was the titular head of that company, and took a lot of heat for decisions that other people higher in government made. Government financing and production decisions were 'laundered' through Shoot the Moon."

"Was it difficult to wrap your mind around the concept that Amanda Stetson was pretending to be Kate Jackson who was acting as Amanda Stetson?" Shasta could hardly believe the premise. She couldn't imagine how difficult it might be to live it for four years.

"You have no idea how wacky that was. Sometimes I met myself coming and going. Since we used our real names for the character names, it was easy to overlook the many times that we used the wrong name out of context. The weirdest part was that Amanda King was actually falling in love with Lee Stetson, and I had to convince Reagan's staff to allow the story line to follow the development of our off-screen relationship. I couldn't juggle more personalities and I really needed agreement between the off-screen romance and the on-screen relationship. To complicate it further, I wasn't sure about Lee's interest in _me_. He hadn't dated as widely as his on-screen character had, but I had to be careful to let the story arc follow actual relationship developments, rather than getting ahead of it. I was always afraid of assuming too much on Lee's part."

"You never told me that." Lee's amusement was evident by the brief appearance of dimples.

"Lee, how could I possibly be sure that you were falling for me when I was falling for you? The stars in my eyes might have cast stars in your eyes that weren't real, merely reflections of my own. If I had trouble juggling the Amanda/Kate/Amanda persona, it was multiplied exponentially by the Lee/Bruce/Lee persona coupled with our romance. It's a wonder we didn't flub our marriage vows in the middle of all that."

"The rest of us had it easy compared to you two." The blond reflected judiciously. "As Francine, undercover as Martha, who was acting in the role of Francine, I could go home at night and be myself. Lee and Amanda saw each other all day on set and then after hours off set. When we would have cast parties, or even production sessions at the Agency, I could see that they sometimes had problems stepping out of their acting shoes to be themselves."

"My cover as Mel Stewart playing Billy Melrose was complex, too. Besides being engaged in filming the show, I coordinated Agency efforts with Reagan's people and Warner Communications. Appearing on the show was much easier than juggling all of the hidden details for Operation Scarecrow. Of course, being on set 14 to 16 hours every day made it easy for us to access all areas of Warner's properties after hours as well. Some of those days were awfully long when we had to include surveillance or other intelligence business. I had to juggle the work as a manager, an actor, and an intelligence operative for four years. It's a wonder my wife didn't leave me." He ended with a hearty laugh, but he wasn't exaggerating the strain on the marriage. Retirement would be his opportunity to be fully devoted to his long-suffering wife.

Amanda resumed the story of their romance. "The show was absolutely consuming during the months of production. During the summer hiatuses, our private relationship could develop in a more normal environment, so the new season always reflected giant steps in our relationship. We became engaged during the summer of 1986, so Shoot the Moon forced the pace of our on-screen relationship in Season 4 to accommodate that. It was Steve Ross' idea to put the wedding in February for Sweeps Week, and that was agreeable both professionally and personally. Another closely guarded secret is that Lee and I were actually married during that episode. The taped version was reality television at its finest. There was a cake for cast and crew, and our families were on the set to witness our vows. To this day, I don't think any of the cast or crew have spilled the beans about our wedding to the public. I had cultivated a notorious preference for privacy that kept people from asking me too many questions and they have honored our request to keep quiet about mine and Lee's real relationship."

"Ab-so-lute-ly in-cred-ible." Shasta shook her head in awe. This was a lot to absorb at once. The agents waited quietly as she grappled with the shift in perspective. She could hardly decide which question to ask first. "The cancer – was that real or part of the scheme?"

"Unfortunately, that was real. There were endless discussions about whether to let my character die and continue with Project Scarecrow in some other way, or to maintain the storyline and work around the illness and treatments. Since the show's primary objective was to increase a sense of hope, letting a leading character die wasn't permissable. It's evident during the last episodes of Season 4 that we were unsure about the direction of the story arc. We had expected to use the summer hiatus to hammer out the details."

Lee took up the story again. "The real reason the show ended in 1987 was that President Reagan would not be running for re-election in 1988 due to term limits, and he did not need the continuing morale boost for the American public. Vice President George Bush was his expected successor and had no desire to inherit Project Scarecrow. Despite the real-life burdens of Amanda's cancer treatments, she was willing to continue with the show. However, it was Reagan's decision to end the project. He discontinued funding of the project in the 1988 Congressional Budget, and we all returned to the real work of fighting the bad guys instead of pretending to fight the bad guys."

"Wow, my biggest regret at the moment is that I can't tell my parents about this. My dad would love knowing that Reagan was the actual creator of the show. This is unbelievable." She shook her head in wonder. Shasta had heard some wild stories in the National Archives and had a strong sense of integrity about what must remain confidential and what could be shared. As long as this project was classified, she wouldn't breathe a word about it to anyone.

"Now that the backstory is on the table, we have a couple of issues to discuss." With a light hand on the reins, Billy turned the discussion back to its purpose. "We have a problem with Warner Brothers and their interest in releasing the show on DVDs. Francine and Lee assumed their undercover roles in 2003 to attend the 20th Anniversary Celebration of the first episode of Scarecrow and Mrs. King and again last month to attend the 25th Anniversary Celebration. At both events, they were asked about the DVD release. As actors, they know nothing about why the studio has not released the DVDs. As agents, they know that the release is not possible until the project has been declassified."

"There are fans sponsoring Anniversary Celebrations of the show?" The meeting was getting more amazing by the minute.

"Oh, yeah. Dozens attended the events and there are hundreds all around the world in on-line communities. I was surprised by their attachment to the characters. I had no idea that the show would have long-term impact. There were international fans who shelled out big bucks to travel to the celebration and folks came from all over the U.S. and Canada to be there," Lee reported.

"As Reagan conceived the show, it was only a bit of fluffy entertainment stirring up patriotism and hope. Twenty years later, we started getting calls from an Anniversary Committee inviting actors and production staff to attend a party. I couldn't believe it. There are internet fan sites, music videos, and fan fiction too." Francine had researched the fan base thoroughly and it was her recommendation that prompted the Agency to re-assign them to their undercover roles on a limited basis. "It was stunning to attend that event. I never would have suspected that this show would get that much attention. I think President Reagan would have been pleased as punch to discover that his morale booster had such a sustained ripple effect." Francine smiled broadly, celebrating their shared success.

"Oh, I think he of all people knew the lasting impact of good entertainment." Lee had admired Reagan's audacious plan from the beginning. "Amanda, I've forgotten. Why didn't you attend the 20th?"

"I was undercover in Barbados shutting down the Richardson scheme." She answered her husband and then turned to Shasta to add, "and for the 25th Anniversary last month, I was providing security on the presidential campaign trail. October of an election year is not an easy time for national security. The Secret Service needed extra female agents this year to provide protection for all of the wives and female candidates involved."

"The fans were all asking about getting the show released on DVD and as Bruce Boxleitner, I kept answering that I didn't know why it hadn't been released yet. I know the producers who attended the event plan to ask Warners about the DVDs and try to get things moving. Their questions will keep getting stonewalled until we can declassify the project."

Again, Billy spoke to get the meeting back on track. "The automatic review can declassify portions of the project, or all of the project. We propose that there be no restrictions on the show itself, only on the creative origins and purposes of the show. That would allow Warner Brothers to release the DVDs, without undermining Project Scarecrow."

Shasta shook her head once to snap out of story-telling mode and attend to the job at hand. She nodded in agreement, "That is certainly possible. I can see that revealing the origins of the show would not benefit the public good, and might instead cause a decrease in confidence in our government. In this case, we could consider it 'protecting the source,' which is an allowable exemption."

"Uh, Billy, there is another worrisome... detail, that I really hate to mention, but it's, uh, it's really important." Chairs swiveled as everyone turned again to Lee. "The Agency personnel that appeared on camera all had to sign Statements of Non-Disclosure. One of the girls from steno who made two brief appearances in one episode signed the form. I know she did. Both Francine and I can remember it clearly. But she managed to destroy all copies of her signed forms. Until we get her assurance of non-disclosure, we face considerable risk by releasing the DVDs." Lee and Francine exchanged knowing looks and she covered a betraying smirk with her hand as she turned away to stifle her laughter. She had forgotten this loose thread that could cause their project to unravel.

"Why would that be a problem now? She hasn't made her knowledge public yet. Why would releasing the DVDs trigger her to tell what she knows?" Shasta needed all of the details to be stated clearly for the recording.

"That, um... that gets tricky." Lee glanced apprehensively at Amanda. Sometimes the details about other relationships could be uncomfortable. "She appeared on the show as my girlfriend and had the expectation that her role would be greater – both on the show and in my life. She feels my relationship with Amanda was a personal affront to her and believes that she has been humiliated. She keeps claiming "breach of contract" issues saying that I had promised to marry her but that I reneged under orders by President Reagan. She has threatened to go public with all that she knows – or rather, what she thinks she knows - about the show if we allow the DVDs to be released. In her opinion, releasing the DVDs would cause her endless public humiliation. The tabloids would inflate her claims into a sensational scandal."

"Lee, that's ridiculous. It was a TV show." Billy laughed. "Even if we declassify Project Scarecrow, the fans would still be stonewalled because of a jilted girlfriend?"

"Yes, she's confusing the reality with the pretense and has expressed her anger several times to me quite clearly. The biggest problem is that I don't know where she is. It's never been a high priority to find her, but we'll need to obtain a new signed Statement from her before we can give Warner the go ahead."

Francine got her amusement under control and added, "She's gotten married and divorced twice – changing her name and even using multiple names at the same time. She's lived with relatives and friends, keeping a low profile for months at a time. I've never tried very hard to find her, but the quick searches usually come back with nothing. Now that the declassification review is forcing the issue, I'll be able to justify the manpower to track her down."

"Well, who is this woman? When Francine finds her, I'll just have a nice little talk with her and get her to sign the Non-Disclosure again." Billy rolled his eyes at this complication.

"Her name when she worked here was Miranda Beebe." Lee shoved both hands in his pockets and looked at the ceiling, counting the seconds to see how quickly his wife would figure it out. He was in the middle of "2 Mississippi" when Amanda's head turned sharply and her eyes narrowed ominously.

"Beebe? As in, Baby? Is this Randi Baby?" Amanda's voice rose in volume and pitch in unbelief. "Are you telling me that _Randi Baby_ is the final obstacle to getting this show released on DVD?"

"Yeah." Lee winced as he saw the look on Amanda's face. "Randi Beebe is the only hold-up."

XOXOXOXOX


	3. Progress Reports

**May, 2009**

Six months of sporadic searching still had not located the elusive Ms. Beebe. National security could not take a backseat to an 80s television show, and the Stetsons had too many demands on their time to conduct an extensive search.

The National Archives, Information Security Office, Review Committe had returned a favorable decision that would keep the origins and purposes of the show classified, but would allow the release of the DVDs. Since the first season of production had ended in April, 1984, the automatic 25 year declassification was on schedule, with limited exemptions, for May, 2009.

From the beginning years of home video production, any discussion at Warner Home Video about Scarecrow and Mrs. King had been quietly derailed. Demographic statistics would go missing just moments prior to pivotal meetings. Plans to schedule production of SMK on DVD would be preempted by some other hot retro favorite. Fan mail received various conflicting excuses or no response at all, depending on who was assigned the job of answering the polite but persistent requests for a DVD release. The top echelon of Warner Communications (through all of its mergers, incarnations and transitory leaders) quietly, but relentlessly, had obeyed Reagan's orders to keep the show under tight control.

Billy held a discreet meeting with Jeffrey Bewkes, CEO of Time Warner in May, 2009, and all of those problems mysteriously disappeared. Timer Warner began the lengthy production process to produce the Season 1 DVDs. Without the Statement of Non-Disclosure from Randi Beebe, Season 2 could not be scheduled yet and perhaps would never be released. Billy feared they were on thin ice by releasing Season 1, but Randi's threats had always been focussed on her exposure and public humiliation, so he thought that national security was in minimal danger from her loose lips at this point.

Since DVD production took months of planning and scheduling, the Agency still had nearly a year to find Ms. Beebe before the product would be available to the public. Perhaps the announcement of a DVD release would elicit another hysterical call from the jilted girlfriend, and they could get some fresh leads to find her.

XOXOXOXOX

 **June 5, 2009**

 **Poker Creek Customs – United States/**

 **Little Gold Creek Customs - Canada**

It was an alert official on the U.S.-Canadian border who provided the critical information. Dozens of folks leading subsistence lifestyles wandered freely in the unpatroled wilderness region of the two countries. Unlike gypsies, these folks were typically solitary individuals or couples. They lived off the land – trapping for furs, mining, hunting, fishing, harvesting wild resources, crafting objects from natural materials – sustaining their lives and earning a little spending money for necessities. They couldn't become completely invisible, but they could go "off the grid" substantially. Medical necessity occasionally forced them into towns to seek treatment. Periodic trips to sell their goods, pick up mail, and purchase manufactured supplies also brought them into town. At those times, they might pass through this northernmost border checkpoint jointly manned by U.S. and Canadian customs officials, and be noted as a blip on the radar of the two countries.

Herbert was naturally curious and he enjoyed people. If they were inclined to stop and chat, he would gladly set aside the formalities and put his feet up for a half-hour or more. If they weren't inclined to chat, he could still speculate about their lives. He had spent summers at this location for six years already. The roads around here were closed in winter so he accepted temporary assignments wherever he was needed, but he always looked forward to coming back to Poker Creek. He found the pace of life agreeable, and the scenery was unparalleled. The Customs office was on the Top of the World Highway, and he liked thinking that he was indeed on top of the world this far north. He was looking forward to retiring in this area. It would be a good place to end his years.

It was a Friday morning and the familiar couple on two all-terrain vehicles from Alaska had been waiting in the Customs Office parking lot when they opened at 8:00am. Herb bustled around raising the blinds, making coffee and such, while the youngster at the Canadian desk asked his questions and worked his way methodically through the procedures of admitting folks to his fine country. (Officer Ted Mitchell was conscientious and well-trained; Herb was sure they would get along fine once Ted lightened up a bit.) There was a small commotion that drew Herb's attention. The woman was in considerable pain due to an axe wound on her right leg, and was growling orders and curses at her companion. He was busy rifling her backpack trying to locate the passport which was required for entry. She kept saying, "The zippered side pocket; it's right there. In the zippered side pocket." That may be where she usually kept it, but Hal couldn't find it now. He had nearly emptied her pack looking in every pocket and crevice for the important document. At last, with his arm rummaging blindly at the bottom of the pack, he gave a grunt of satisfaction and pulled out the small blue booklet. Officer Mitchell dutifully entered the name "Miranda Beebe" into his computer and wished Ms. Beebe well with her medical treatment. Her inattention at the crucial moment caused the undoing of years of careful planning and behavior.

Miranda had always been told that she was "too smart for her own good." She never knew what that was supposed to mean; after all, if she had to depend on herself, she needed to be smart. But teachers throughout all twelve years of school had admonished her repeatedly, predicting that her clever schemes were doomed to fail. She had proved all of them wrong. She had escaped the small, dead-end town mere hours after graduation. She had hitchhiked her way to Baltimore and worked grueling jobs to put herself through secretarial school. Then, with a few years of experience on her resume, she moved to D.C. and landed a job at one of the elite intelligence agencies. She was constantly mindful of the need to move up, the need to constantly position herself to be noticed, the value of every asset – from her thick, blonde hair to her nimble feet and everything in between.

While working those low-life jobs during secretarial school, she had the epiphany that an extra social security number might come in handy some day. So she got one on the black market complete with several forged copies of "certified" birth certificates for future use; it was worth every penny. She was careful to use it in small obscure ways to build a history and backstory. She held very brief jobs to establish a social security record (never earning enough to require her to file a tax return), and took out one small loan to create a credit history. She acquired a credit card under the assumed name and used it for modest vacations – different cities each time. It felt like a game.

Having another identity seemed like a stroke of brilliance when she decided to disappear. Her life plan had been to be a well-connected mover and shaker, originally in D.C. When the relationship with Lee Stetson ended in humiliation, she was willing to change the locale of her success to any other prestigious city. She burned her bridges in Chicago with a disastrous marriage to a narcissistic fool. New York had promised a fresh beginning, but that ended when her two-timing, two-faced, adulterous, pox-ridden, second husband ditched her for a college doxy. Dallas, Boston, Atlanta and Portland had been riddled with bad luck and even worse people. She had drifted from friend to friend, nursing her wounds and contemplating revenge for all of her wrongs. She wrote and revised lists of the people who had offended her, accompanied by lists of their deserved reprisals. Eventually, she had escaped from Seattle to Alaska – the end of the world.

Amazingly enough, the life suited her. For once, Randi's scheming was focussed on survival rather than appearance. She could use her brains to make every dollar work hard, and to bring success to every effort to obtain food, water, fuel or cash. The years rolled by in pleasant exhaustion – until the axe slipped and she cut her leg. They had treated it with basic first aid - Hal even put in a few stitches - but within 24 hours it was clear that she needed more advanced medical attention. There must have been something vile on the axe to cause such a fast infection.

At this time, the nearest town with decent medical care was Dawson in Yukon Territory, Canada. The nearest U.S. town, Tok, AK, had lost its nurse practioner four months ago and hadn't gotten a replacement yet. It took about 45 minutes on the ATVs to get to the road, but at least the winding, gravel road was mostly free of snow for the drive to the Canadian border. The clinic in Dawson opens at 9:00, and they still had to drive more than an hour from the Customs Station to get to town. Her leg had gotten more painful during the rough 3 hour ride, but she couldn't operate the ATV and take pain killers at the same time. She had leaned heavily on Hal to navigate the few steps into and out of the Customs Office.

As the couple left the Customs Building, Herb ambled over to the Canadian desk with a pot of fresh coffee. "They sure seemed in a hurry. It's unsettling to start the day with such a ruckus," he observed genially. He waved the coffee pot in invitation and Ted offered his cup readily.

"Yeah, that leg seemed quite painful. I can't imagine what would tempt folks to live so much on their own. Emergencies like this could be fatal. What if the weather had been too rough for them to travel, hey?" Ted shook his head in disapproval and took a cautious sip of the hot brew. Herb always made it too strong, but Ted would drink it down a bit before adding water and cream. It seemed more polite to wait a while since the older man had been kind enough to bring the coffee to his desk. Especially since Herb had hitched a hip onto a corner of the desk and seemed to be settling in for a chat.

"Did you call her 'Ms. Beebe,' as she left? I would have sworn her name was 'Barber,' Mitzi Barber." Herb prided himself on remembering the "regulars." Mitzi and Hal didn't come through often, but he'd seen them at least once each summer he'd worked here.

Ted hit a few keys on his laptop. "Nope, not Barber. Miranda Beebe. The passport is one of the old ones issued prior to your 9/11. It's good for another two years. The photo showed her in her better days. I suspect this rough living might age a woman."

Herb sipped thoughtfully at his coffee as he swung his leg against Ted's desk. "Would you mind giving me that passport number? I think I might want to compare it to our records."

Ted considered the request. This Customs Station is a unique posting because the two nations share one office. He couldn't remember any rules _against_ sharing information, but no other Canadian office would have a U.S. official sitting on their desks. There wasn't a supervising officer to defer the question to, since he _is_ the senior Canadian official at this post. It's such a small matter to share; he would feel a bit foolish telling Herb the bureaucratic equivalent of "let me ask my mother." "No, I don't mind. Better yet, I'll send you a screen shot of her entry record." As Ted put aside his coffee to apply both hands to the keyboard, Herb sauntered back to the break area to replace the coffee pot on the machine. International cooperation always brightened his day.

XOXOXOXOX

 **June 8, 2009**

 **The Agency, Washington, D.C.**

 **Q Bureau Division**

The days of sharing a private office with Amanda were long gone, replaced by a staff of six top agents handling the Agency's toughest cases. The days were busier than ever with Lee and Amanda spending long hours at their desks doing more brain-work than leg-work. Dozens of integrated secure networks had been streamlined by the Department of Homeland Security to provide daily updates throughout the intelligence community. Lee typically spent the first minutes of his day sipping coffee and scanning the reports for any name or circumstance that might provide critical information for any of the active cases in his division.

"Got her!" he shouted in triumph. "Amanda, come look at this."

"Well, if you've 'got _her_ ,' I sure want to know all about it," his beautiful wife teased as she circled behind his desk and leaned over his shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek as she leaned closer to peer at his computer screen. He shifted in his chair to give her a better vantage point, and dropped his left hand casually beside his chair to gently grip her right calf. She cut her eyes away from the computer screen to flash him a quick smile before returning her focus to the brief report.

After losing the privacy of the upstairs office, they had discovered dozens of ways to surreptitiously enjoy moments of intimacy throughout their day. This early in the day, Lee would limit his touch to areas below the knee. By late afternoon, he would be teasing her by allowing his hand to wander higher up her thigh. She frequently responded with disapproving looks, but she nearly always wore skirts to accommodate his scheme. Other agents knew to turn a blind eye, or give plenty of warning as they approached, since the Stetson's ardor for one another had become the office joke as soon as their marriage had been announced more than 20 years ago.

"Where in sam hill is Poker Creek Customs?" she exclaimed. "Let's call this Officer Herbert Gilmer right away." She had become adept at keeping her mind on business while her body enjoyed her husband's attentions.

"We could do that, but we wouldn't have much luck," Lee said as his grip pulsed in a tighten-release-tighten-release rhythm on her leg. With his innocent face belying his actions he pointed out, "Poker Creek is the northernmost land border crossing at the Alaskan-Canadian border. They won't even open until noon our time. We can let the man have a few more hours of sleep before he has to answer our questions." He released her calf with a sly wink and turned to acknowledge an approaching agent.

The day sped by with research, phone calls, conferences and various aggravations. They didn't get away for lunch until 1:30 and kept it short, returning to the office a little after 2:00. Before getting entangled in national security matters, they called Officer Gilmer from their small conference room, using a speaker phone. The phone was answered on its second ring.

"Good morning from the Top of the World. You've reached Poker Creek Customs Station. Officer Gilmer, speaking." The voice was gruffly cheery.

"Good morning, Officer Gilmer. This is Lee and Amanda Stetson from The Agency calling from Washington, D.C. We are Federal Agents on federal business and we're calling about a person of interest that you noted in the records last Friday, Miranda Beebe." Amanda shook her head as Lee rushed through the preliminaries and plunged into business. At least he remembered to say some form of "hello" on most days.

"Oh, ho, ho. So it's The Agency who was interested in that name." Herb leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet on his desk. He had plenty of time to swap information with some of the nation's finest. "I noticed it was tagged when I entered it in the system on Friday. I've been wondering about that all weekend, for sure."

Amanda laid a hand on Lee's arm to take over the conversation. She recognized the signs of a story-teller and knew she could get more information faster than Lee would. He would ask direct questions and hang up with only half the tale. She would let this fellow spin his story and get the big picture, which would surely prove helpful. "Yes, we're the ones interested in talking to Ms. Beebe. What can you tell us about her?" She let her southern accent get a little thicker and was careful to slow her speech. Washington bureaucrats were too rushed to pay close attention to those who lived at a slower pace.

Lee appreciated his wife's instincts about people and her ability to extract the most information without anyone feeling interrogated. He also appreciated the opportunity to take a back seat on this phone call while he tested his wife's ability to concentrate. With one long index finger, he slowly traced a line on her calf just to the apex of the curve of her knee then back down to the mid-point of her calf. Amanda's skirt covered her knees when she was standing, but he could reach the front of her knee without disturbing the hem.

"Well, ma'am," Herb said expansively, "I don't _know_ much, but I have been putting together bits and pieces while I was anticipating your phone call. I take it, you've never been to Alaska yourself, have you?"

"No, we've never been able to go. I hear it's beautiful, though." Lee rolled his eyes at what he always thought was wasted trivia. Amanda continued with the chatter, "Have you lived there long?"

"I've spent summers at this post for six years, and I've done a bit of travel in the Great State when I wasn't working. It's a different place, and takes a different approach if you want to get anything done." Herb was getting warmed up on a favorite theme. "There's miles and miles of wilderness, and _nothing_ is simple if you don't live in one of the towns. The nearest Alaskan town is nearly 3 hours away from here by road. You can't just dash to the convenience store for milk and bread when you run out."

Lee's finger had pushed Amanda's hem an inch or two above her knee as his route from mid-calf had risen a little higher on every fifth or sixth circuit. There was a large window in the wall between the Q and this conference room, but the table and his body provided coverage for his game. He leaned forward and rested an elbow on the table to give himself a better view of his lovely partner's face and to allow greater roaming opportunities for his hand. Amanda turned her face a little away from him as she suppressed a grin at his familiar game. She'd wait a while longer before making a counter-move.

Moving the conversation towards the desired information, she asked, "So, was this the first time Ms. Beebe has come through your Customs post?" Since it might take some time to elicit hard facts, she put down her pen and captured her husband's roving hand with her own. "You've known her as Mitzi Barber for how many years?" It was only a matter of moments before Lee started caressing each finger, slowly and thoroughly from palm to tip, from her pinkie to her thumb and back again, and then languidly drawing circles on her palm and wrist. Officer Gilmer's background story would not be rushed, but with Amanda's judicious questioning, he finally started telling the important information. Amanda tugged her hand from Lee's grasp and started taking notes. "Will you be able to detain her when she returns through your station?" She shifted her position, crossing her legs to remove that temptation from her husband's reach.

The answer was a long-winded and frustrating, "No." Officer Gilmer reported that Mitzi's partner, Hal, had returned on Sunday with another man driving the second ATV. Herb had engaged the two men in conversation and been told that Mitzi's leg had been treated at the clinic. She had been given antibiotics by I.V. and the wound had been thoroughly cleaned and stitched. The infection seemed under control, and she had been given a bundle of supplies to change the dressings and a prescription for a full course of oral antibiotics. She and Hal had spent Saturday night camping near a group of graduate students who were embarking on a river adventure down the Yukon from Dawson, YT to Circle, AK, where the river crosses the highway north of Fairbanks. Mitzi had talked her way into joining them as far as Eagle, AK, where the couple fish the Yukon every summer. In exchange, one of the men on the outing would enjoy his dream of wilderness travel with Hal riding the second ATV to their cabin for fishing gear and then providing help to set up the nets at their usual spot. When the river party arrived at Eagle next week, Mitzi would be able to help with the fish harvest, while the young man rejoined his friends for the remainder of their river journey. The two groups had left West Dawson around 7:00 Sunday morning. In short, she wouldn't be passing through the border post.

Lee grinned at the challenge posed by Amanda's new posture. He leaned back in his chair, and glanced through the window to judge lines of sight into the room. His lifted both arms, wiggled his shoulders and twisted his body in a big stretch. His hand drifted to the back edge of her chair and he hooked a thumb through the upright support of her arm rest. Adding a comment to the phone conversation, he flexed his fingers open and closed, brushing her slim hips. On his third flex, he was rewarded by seeing her face flame in response. She jotted a note while she scooted her chair away from his teasing fingers. She bent her head, hiding her face behind a veil of hair. Lee asked a question, proving that he was paying attention to the intelligence gathering effort, while he slipped off his shoe. He waited through Gilmer's answer and then, in the midst of Amanda's next question, he placed the sole of his foot directly along the back of her calf.

"Since we can't just send a posse downriver to get her, and you say it would be difficult to locate the cabin, do you have any suggestions about how we might locate Ms. Beebe?" He nearly laughed as she stumbled to the end of the question and savored her flashing eyes as she turned to look at him, her eyes wide with admonition. He licked his lips and lifted his eyebrows tauntingly. His foot slipped higher and slid along the outside edge of her thigh. Amanda kept her legs crossed and returned her attention to her notes.

"Now, I have been pondering that problem and I might have a few ideas for you." Gilmer was a gold-mine of information with an active imagination. His ideas ranged from mailing the couple bogus winning tickets to a sporting event, to having local law enforcement watch for them at the post office. He saved the best for last. "Have you heard about the Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend?"

"No, can't say that I have," Amanda replied, suppressing her frustration at yet another tangent. She considered standing up to stop her husband's advances.

"When the oil boom started filling the State coffers, somebody got the brilliant idea of locking up all that money and letting it grow. The interest income is paid in annual dividends to every man, woman and child that is a resident of the State. Folks from the Bush communities often make annual shopping trips to the big cities right after that dividend check hits their bank accounts in October. That's your best opportunity to find Mitzi and Hal either in Fairbanks or Anchorage." Gilbert talked for several more minutes before a motorcycle squad entered the Customs Post and turned his leisurely morning into a busy day. "You let me know if I can help you good folks again. It's always a pleasure."

Amanda disconnected the call and turned to Lee in excitement. "I have an idea about how to get Randi to come to us. Do you remember Liz Bryant from the Kappa fund raiser for 'Reading is FUNdamental' last Fall? She sat at our table and won the prize for 'Farthest Sister.' She works as the U.S. District Court Clerk in Anchorage. I'll call her and see whether it would be possible to have Randi summoned for jury duty."

"That could work. Good thinking. Apparently, my distraction skills are losing their edge." Lee fumbled under the table for his shoe while Amanda stood. Before he could retrieve the shoe, she placed her hand in middle of his chest, pushing him back into his chair.

"Your distraction skills are going to get you in big trouble one of these days. When we are at home, you may tantalize me as you please, but when we are at work, we need to act like we are at work." Her stern facial expression and tone of voice were sabotaged by her posture and the two extra buttons that she had opened for his viewing pleasure. She bent low to give him a brief view of sweetly curving flesh and shimmering emerald lace, before she straightened and, with her blouse strategically covered by her note pad, passed the window to leave the room. She stopped at the closed door to face him and re-button her blouse.

"Are you wearing the matching set, or just the top?" Lee asked, suddenly dry mouthed.

"You'll find out when we get home tonight. If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." Pleased with the effect of her own distraction, Amanda smiled sweetly and returned to her desk.


	4. Resolution

**October 5, 2009**

A year passed in the SMK YouKou fandom, and the fervor for official DVDs did not wane. McGypsee fanned the flames with a stirring post. She asked, "What has been done in the past?" She declared, "If WB wants to see figures, we'll give them figures." Members of the forum were encouraged to vote as often as allowed at the site "TVshowsonDVD" to keep SMK in the top positions.

Petitions were discussed but there was concern that a single document could be easily thrown away. A campaign of individually composed and signed letters seemed more promising. Some fans cautioned that such concerted efforts might result in a backlash of reprisals that would doom the DVDs to never being released. However, the prevailing opinion was that polite but persistent requests would be effective.

Fans considered ways to prompt television networks to air the show. When re-runs were shown in Italy, the forum gained several new Italian members. Perhaps, a surge of new fans would sway TPTB at Warner Brothers that the time was ripe to profit from this beloved show.. Australians contacted their networks lobbying for re-runs of Scarecrow & Mrs. King; Americans and Brits and Canadians did, too. Still, no joy.

McGypsee was emboldened by the lively discussion and rolled up her sleeves to formulate a "methodical, bullet-point Plan of Attack." A cornerstone of the plan was to compile demographic data to prove the financial viability of a DVD release to the bean counters at Warner Brothers:

\- How many fans?

\- Ages?

\- Gender?

\- Education levels? (clearly very smart people if they like SMK)

\- Earning power?

\- Location of fans?

\- DVD buying habits?

and so forth

Fans were urged to contact other fan sites, those for the actors as well as other SMK fandoms, and encourage their participation in a letter campaign. McGypsee envisioned a web site devoted to the DVD release. This new site would coordinate the letter campaign, gather the demographic data, and be a rallying point for other fan sites as well. Forum members agreed to cover all of the major social media networks like facebook, twitter and myspace.

There was also lively discussion about campaigning for re-sellers to buy the rights and release the DVDs. Time-Life was mentioned as an option since they often direct-market media like television shows or old musical recordings with niche-market interest. If SMK can't generate a profit for Warner Brothers, perhaps it would generate enough profit for Time-Life.

XOXOXOXOX

 **October 12, 2009**

 **Federal Courthouse**

 **Fairbanks, Alaska**

Amanda's idea worked like a charm. Liz included a jury summons for Mitzi Barber in the next batch of jury notifications. Because many folks in the Fairbanks district live in remote places and might not pick up their mail more often than monthly, juror candidates are given two months to respond to the initial survey. Then, they are instructed to phone a recording on certain dates to learn when they are scheduled to appear at the Federal courthouse. It was a slow process, but it allowed the Stetsons to be in Fairbanks knowing that their quarry would be at hand. A local flight service, Chapman Air, had verified that Mitzi Barber had been picked up near Eagle and brought to Fairbanks on Sunday.

Amanda and Lee waited in a security office, watching the security procedures on a monitor as jurors arrived. Officer Bielak greeted them cordially as he introduced himself. "I understand that you need to meet with the suspect and have her sign some documents." The trim, dark man was an Inupiat, one of the native tribes in Alaska. He had the highly alert demeanor of law enforcement officials anywhere. The safety of everyone in the building depended on him and his staff. Hosting agents from D.C. was one more headache. These two were a matched set in black and white hound's tooth jackets. She wore a red sweater with a white turtleneck. He wore a white shirt with a red tie. At least they were sensible enough to wear boots and wool pants.

"That's right," Lee said, shaking hands firmly. "Our business shouldn't take more than five or ten minutes, depending on how much arguing precedes the signing." He smiled ruefully. "As I recall, she's a major league arguer when she gets started, so it could be longer. Is the detention room sound-proofed?" he joked. Amanda stepped forward to shake the officer's hand and then moved back to wrap her arm around her husband.

"You can have all the time you need. After your business is concluded, you'll be free to leave the premises while we get started with the preliminary phase of charging the suspect. Signing documents for you is the least of her worries, today."

"I know she's suspected of passport fraud, which would imply a fraudulent birth certificate as well. Do you suspect other crimes?" Lee struggled to keep his voice level as his wife tested his concentration. With his back to the wall, and her arm behind him, Amanda started low-level distractions by running her hand under his jacket and tickling lightly up and down his back.

"Most States compile lists of potential jurors from the Driver's License registry. Alaska compiles its list from the Permanent Fund Dividend applications. We know that she has applied for and received at least one PFD payment under the name of Mitzi Barber. If she did not legally change her name, she probably committed fraud on that application, and that suggests banking violations as well."

Lee tried to turn his body and wrap his arms around Amanda, but she anticipated the move and gripped the back of his shirt firmly. He was unwilling to wrestle his wife in front of a stranger, and decided to step away from her to stop her advances. That was only moderately successful. She stepped with him, and changed tactics. Officer Bielak was amused by the couple's interaction, but hid his interest behind his professionally bland facial expression. Although he kept his face turned to the security monitor, he didn't miss any of their antics.

"Right, I've heard about that State-wide dividend process. That's, how much? A hundred bucks a person every year?" He darted a reproving glance at his wife's innocent face. Amanda's tiny hand had slipped into his back pocket and was now drawing swirls and hearts with her fingernail.

Officer Bielak snorted, "Closer to $1,000 per person, per year. If she's been receiving dividend payments for the past five years, she's received close to $8,000. That's definitely a felony offense. Combined with the passport fraud, she'll likely have some jail time."

"That much! I'm impressed." Lee's expression of surprise was caused equally by the figures quoted by the security officer and the firm squeeze his wife applied to his left cheek. He briefly wished that he could tell the fans at the next SMK anniversary event that the final obstacle to the DVD release had received her just reward, but as with much of his job, the full tale could never be told.

"There's the signal," Amanda said. "Your man checking identifications just nodded."

"Yes, I saw. I'll get her settled in a detainment room, then come get you in just a few moments." He swallowed the last of his coffee and tossed his styrofoam cup in a trashcan, then strode purposefully out the door.

Speaking quietly just in case the room was monitored, Amanda rocked up on tiptoe to reach her husband's ear. "I want you to know that I'm wearing the matching green camisole set. Don't waste too much time with Randi. I have plans to warm you up this afternoon." After a lingering sultry look, Amanda turned to the chair where she had left her briefcase and was all business when Officer Bielak returned.

She handed him a business card, "We'll be glad to provide additional information on this case. Would you please pass along our contact information to your investigator?"

"Certainly. And I'd appreciate a copy of these signed documents today. Having her signature as "Miranda Beebe" alongside her jury summons as "Mitzi Barber" will get us off to a good start. You can come with me to the detention room now. How do you want to work this?"

"I'll enter first to provide visual confirmation of her identity and verbal confirmation of her legal name as Miranda Beebe. Amanda can enter with the documents while Ms. Beebe's attention is on me. I suppose you have some way of observing and perhaps recording the proceedings, yes?"

"You suppose correctly. This is the room." Officer Bielak stood aside for Lee to enter.

Randi had been getting more anxious as she waited. She tried to convince herself that it was only a little problem that would be cleared up by explaining her re-entry by river rather than through Customs last Summer. She rehearsed various tactics: sweet and innocent, misunderstood lady-in-distress; scornful and mighty don't-mess-with-me homesteader; or depending on the man, seductive temptress. She was inventing yet another dialogue when her world suddenly turned upside down.

It only took a split-second to recognize the handsome man who walked into the room. The years had been kinder to Stetson than to her. She was suddenly aware that she hadn't worn make-up in years, her nails were barely trimmed, and her sweater was picked in several places. She had been content with her new identity, but it was nothing like the glitter and sophistication which she had once donned so carefully. The peace of her new life shattered in an instant and the fury twisted her face in a way that Lee recognized.

"Well, look at the Agency's bloodhound. Slow day in national security, Stetson? Or are you losing your skills so much that they've turned you out to pasture, scouring the country looking for missing persons? Quite the come-down from fighting international killers."

"Hello, Randi. Or, should I call you something else?" Lee ignored her venom and dominated the room. He spread his jacket wide and put both hands on his hips, careful not to block the view of the security camera.

It was too late to pretend she didn't know him - too late to retreat into ignorance. Her reaction to his surprising appearance had sprung the trap completely. There were several seconds of silence as she rapidly considered options. Her eyes darted about the room, desperately trying to think of some way to buy a little time. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, "Is your legal name still Miranda Beebe?"

Security cameras are so ubiquitous in cities that one becomes comfortable ignoring them. She was keenly aware of the camera in the corner of the room and knew that it was monitored and wired for sound. Her ears filled with the crashing sound of dreams being bulldozed into oblivion and freedom being denied by locked doors and regimented days. With the breath being squeezed from her lungs, she admitted, "Yes, I'm still Miranda Beebe."

Amanda entered with five copies of the Statement of Non-Disclosure, "Now that we're sure about your identity, we just need your signature on a few forms."

Randi's fury found new strength, "I see she's wearing a matching jacket but her hound's tooth checks are larger than yours. Does that mean she won you and now she _owns_ you? Does she have the power in this relationship? Did you really want to be dominated, Stetson? Is there where I went wrong? If you're the bloodhound, then she must be your bit—!"

The angry tirade was abruptly halted by Lee's palms slapping the table hard. "We don't have time to talk about all the ways you went wrong. You'll have plenty of time to figure that out for yourself. Just sign the documents." He turned his back, dismissing her and giving her room to control her emotions. Amanda placed a pen on the documents and slid them across the table.

Amanda's calm voice filled the resulting silence. "I know you heard this when you were hired at the Agency, but I'll repeat the fundamentals of the documents awaiting your signature." Amanda had memorized the speech about national security and need-to-know and the importance of keeping secrets. Every employee at the Agency had heard it at least once, and most got annual pep talks which incorporated the same notions. Prior to employment, signing the Statements was a standard requirement, but choosing to _not sign_ only meant one would lose the opportunity at a job. At this point, Randi would be required to sign the Statements, or face charges of treason. Amanda included all of the consequences Randi would face if she chose not to sign the documents. She concluded her speech by saying, "If you'll just sign the forms, we'll be out of your way immediately."

Randi's head was turned sharply away from the woman she blamed the most for her troubles. The emotions roared in her head, making her blind and deaf. The only words that penetrated the chaos were the last ones Amanda spoke, "Just sign... out of your way." She grabbed the pen, signed the documents, then flung the pen at Amanda's face as hard as she could throw, followed by a string of curses.

Amanda calmly slipped three of the forms into her briefcase, then stooped to retrieve the pen, tucking it into her purse. Lee leaned across the table again, pushing one copy back towards Randi, and glared into her eyes with a hard look. Without a word, he straightened, turned to Amanda with a brilliant smile and held out his hand to lead her from the room. They paused briefly to give Officer Bielak the final signed document at the doorway and could hear his first words, "You have just signed federal documents with the name of 'Miranda Beebe.' Yet you presented a jury summons today with the name of 'Mitzi Barber.' Would you explain that, please?"

After the months of hunting, followed by scheming to set the trap for "Randi baby," having her sign the documents was anti-climactic. The deed was done in a matter of moments and three copies of Miranda Beebe's Statement of Non-Disclosure were dropped in an overnight bin for delivery to Billy Melrose at The Agency. Upon receiving the documents, Billy called Jeffrey Bewkes at Time Warner to give him the green light to release all four seasons of Scarecrow and Mrs. King on DVD at their discretion.

On October 20, 2009, fans were thrilled to learn that season 1 would be released in March of the following year.

 **THE END**

 **XOXOXOXOX**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES:** I know that other fandoms lobbied for the SMK DVD release. I intended this story to honor ALL fans for their input, but I wrote about the group of fans I can access in the Yuku archives. I joined the SMK party after the release of the DVDs and I'm grateful for the work of all prior fans to motivate Warner Brothers to make the show available.

I hope none of the folks I quoted are offended by my use of their posted comments. I fully intended this story to be a salute to your enthusiasm.

As this story is written, it assumes that Mel Stewart did not die before 2009; Bruce did not marry other women, nor have children by other women; and Kate did not marry other men. Their acting careers post-SMK also did not occur. This story fully supports those fans who like to believe that Lee and Amanda are real.

Happy Reading - AlaskanFan


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